Crimson Vermilion
by ChaosGamer
Summary: Mikoto finally confesses to Touma.
1. Confession

Self-reflection was not something she usually did.

How typical of that idiot, to make her do such tedious things...

But, it seemed that it couldn't be helped, in this case.

Ever since that conversation she had with him back then in that District 22, Mikoto felt an inexplicable obligation to tackle this quite a monumental mental obstacle... namely, this highly complex and dangerous solution of emotions, which she recently found out to be hiding deep within herself, that had everything to do with how she felt about him.

"..."

That also was the reason why she still was not asleep; rather, still was gazing aimlessly toward the ceiling in her bed.

"..."

At the end of the day, she was an immature child. Sure. Regardless of how her pride felt, that was a fact. A fact that she hid from all others, but still a fact nevertheless.

Because she was still an immature child, she still was obstinately dishonest about her feelings up until this very day. That was the reason why she behaved in such an emotional way around him. It was somewhat hilariously mournful, really; if he wasn't so dense as he was, he would've figured it all out by now.

But, what if she was content with this status-quo? Just to chat and shoot the breeze with him aimlessly whenever they ran into each other in the street. That always felt pleasant. She enjoyed those little moments, maybe a little too much.

But she was also a selfish person... apparently her inner-self wanted something more than that. She was unsure what that 'more' was, but she wanted it.

But she also did not wish to disturb the status-quo, because that also was good.

She wanted to have the cake and yet eat it too.

Was that so much to ask?

Apparently so...

For one, if she risked rocking the boat by asking for that 'more' from him, there certainly was a chance that he'd refuse her. She wished to avoid that outcome at all costs.

For another, even if she did succeed in obtaining that 'more' from him, the relationship dynamic between the two of them would fundamentally change from then on out. Again, she found the current dynamic between the two of them quite pleasant, and was not interested in having that be dissolved.

So it all boiled down to this conundrum: if she risked this... 'thing' between them by asking for 'more' from him, would that final end-result be something she'll find better, truer satisfaction from? Would it be of more worth than what the present offered her?

For the next hour her mind dwelt on that dilemma, ruminating upon it.

* * *

"..."

Soon, she realized that she neglected to consider one rather particularly important outside factor here.

He was not exactly unpopular among other women. He, of course, being as dense as a brick as he was, was oblivious to all other ladies being attracted to him like a magnet... which made it all the more infuriating, but nevertheless...

In this... battlefield, even her own Sisters were her competitors.

He was dense, but in the end it wouldn't matter for long; as she saw it, sooner or later, _someone_ will succeed in luring him into their feminine allure.

Just because he was dense it didn't mean he wasn't a healthy young man.

Grimacing, Mikoto gently applied pressure on her teeth. Tch. It couldn't be helped, then. If she had to take action, better sooner than later.

At the end of the day, offense was the best defense, after all.

"..."

Then, her cheeks inevitably turned pink... as her thoughts moved on to the step where she now was obliged to do some legwork.

Just... how? How would she...?

"Ugh." Turning and tossing in her bed, she squeezed her gigantic stuffed bear ever so tightly. She couldn't even articulate such an action within her own mind... how would she even go about... how should she go about... confessing...

Mikoto felt her face overflow in various shades of crimson vermilion.

After all that... this... this felt next to impossible...

Why? This shouldn't be that difficult. All she had to do was to walk up to him next time they ran into each other, look at him directly... in the... eyes... and tell him that she... that she...

Sitting up, she buried her face in her hands as she felt her heartbeat rising.

Never before did she have to deal with this sort of feeling... her mind currently felt like cotton candy haze...

She didn't get much sleep that night.

* * *

After much deliberation, Mikoto was struck by this thought: that perhaps, she was needlessly limiting herself in this, what should be, a rather simple endeavor. Face-to-face communication was not the only avenue of communication available to her. She did have his number, after all. Now, that did not mean she was dense enough to send.. uh, _that_ sort of confession via a _text_... as young as she was, she still had common sense.

But the main point was that it probably was not a good idea to be directly facing him when making, um, _that_ sort of confession.

So an indirect communication it would have to be.

Text was no-go... then, perhaps, an email? An email...

But, that, too, was probably also right out, for same obvious reasons as before.

For what she needed to do here, an email was not as unrefined as a text, but still felt rather... wrong.

So...

A handwritten letter? Like a letter to his shoe locker?

For a moment Mikoto contemplated such a method. A handwritten letter.. that didn't seem like a bad idea. She had many fancy options for paper available, and her Tokiwadai education certainly equipped her with the needed skills in areas such as penmanship and literary eloquence...

But, the same problem remained here – just what should she say to him in that letter?

Perhaps... she'll have more ideas with an actual pen and paper in front of her...

* * *

This... this was difficult.  
Harder than she initially expected.

She thought she'd have an easier time saying... _that_ on paper, but she was wrong. Completely wrong.

In fact, actually attempting to write out her thoughts and words onto a physical sheet felt much more nerve-racking, and also much more... permanent.

Words were fleeting, scattering into the air the moment they left one's mouth. Written words, on the other hand, stuck onto that page on which it was etched upon, indefinitely.

And... if he were to... accept... her... _that_, he'd most assuredly will keep that letter with him forever, looking upon it fondly again and again afterwards...!

Right then and there Mikoto felt her face overflow in various shades of crimson vermilion.

"What are you writing, onee-sama?"

Mikoto jumped a full foot into the air. Then, before she could hurt herself on her way down, she felt a pair of hands supporting her side, allowing her to steady herself.

"Kuroko," Mikoto gaped for a second before collecting herself. "I, uh, well... good morning."

"Good morning, onee-sama." Kuroko gave a glance upon the piece of parchment Mikoto was – well, attempting to – scribble upon. "Looks like you've just started to write, judging by that single solitary word upon that paper... 'Dear'."

Oh yes.

The relationship between him and her was as such that she never really uttered his name to him yet. Or to anyone, for that matter. In fact, she didn't even think of his name when she saw him or thought of him; 'that idiot' was a perfect epithet as any other, for that role.

...Why was it that way? For that brief fraction of a second Mikoto wondered as to why that was. Better put, why was _she_ that way?

Maybe she truly was a child, at the end of the day.

Kuroko gazed upon her onee-sama's face, which changed into different expressions of emotions, one after the other, seemingly every half a second.

"Onee-sama..." Kuroko drawled.

"H-heh?" Mikoto started, with a forced smile on her face.

"Perhaps... this letter... is to _that gentleman...?_"

"–Ha," Mikoto forced a chuckle, "Haha..." Mikoto closed her eyes, taking a breath. "...Sorry, but I'm not exactly a letter-writing type, am I?"

"...No," Kuroko admitted. "I suppose not..."

"In any case..." Mikoto continued as she began to put everything away, "Saten and Uiharu is probably waiting for us right now... let's go."

"..Mm," Kuroko gave a grimace.

* * *

"Misaka-san is so intense today," Uiharu whispered over to Saten.

"Yep..."

It was a beautiful day, so they decided to sit around one of the outside tables of the cafe.

Less than five minutes after they sat down, however, all their conversations slowly died out, with the end result of three of them staring with concern at Mikoto, who had her hand arched in front of her face, looking like she might bubble and boil over at any moment.

She didn't even notice them staring at her until that moment. "Oh," she started, taking her hands away from her face with a snap. "I, uh, seem unfocused today, don't I?" She chuckled, cold sweat on the back of her head.

"Onee-sama, I don't think you seem unfocused. Rather, you seem _too focused._"

"Ahahaha..."

_...I think I know what the issue is,_ Saten surmised in her mind.  
Then she shifted her focus toward Kuroko.  
_With Shirai-san around, though, talking to her about this right now is probably not an option..._

It'll have to wait, then...

In the meanwhile, it was time to prepare.

And so, Saten took out her phone and began to type.

* * *

**[I need your advice on a matter... may I meet you in Asunaro Park around 2 o'clock today?]**

That was the entire message Mikoto got from Saten on Speech Bubble there.

...

This was unexpected, to say the least.

What sort of advice did Saten want from her anyway? There was no detail on that whatsoever on this short message she sent her.

But she had no reason to refuse her... so there she was.

"Misaka-san!"

Mikoto turned to see Saten approach her while waving.

"Saten-san," Mikoto replied. "Did you need my help on something?"

"Just an advice, that's all..." Saten smiled as she sat down on a bench, while inviting Mikoto to sit also, offering her a can of Habanero Pineapple Juice.  
"The thing is... well, you remember the Folk Dance during Daihaseisai, right?"

The Folk Dance. The mere mention of that event brought various hues of red onto her cheeks. "–Sure," Mikoto replied after taking a moment to compose herself.

"You remember how I asked that _spiky-haired boy_ to dance with me," Saten pushed further.

"...Yep." Mikoto kept her body as still as possible. As still... as possible.

"Well, unfortunately, back then, I came down with a stomachache out of nowhere, so you had to substitute for me..." Saten gave a mock sigh.

"..." Mikoto barely contained a static discharge from her bangs, resulting from her sheer nervousness that kept on rising throughout this conversation.

"But..." Saten placed a finger on her chin, with a contemplative face. "_I just can't seem to not think about him._"

"!?"

"What was his name again..." Saten lowered her chin in contemplation, then brought it back up in a snap of illumination: "ah, _Kamijou Touma_, wasn't it?"

"!?–––kh," Mikoto grunted, her face almost betraying her inner storm of emotions.

"And, if I think about it," Saten mercilessly charged on, "it makes no sense for me to keep my feelings about him bottled up like this. _I should just confess to him..._ yes, that seems to be the most logical thing to do."

Mikoto's face at that moment seemed like a volcano about to erupt over. It was a testament to Saten's fearlessness in how she seemed absolutely unconcerned about that.

"If he rejects me, so much for that. But if..." Saten trailed off with a significant expression on her face. "...You know. Better to get it done and over with. Wouldn't you agree, Misaka-san?"

"–Mmh." It took Mikoto an immense amount of self-control at that moment to prevent herself from crunching the can in her grip from sheer stress.

"Great!" Saten beamed. "Glad you agree with me. I knew I needed to talk to you about this... so I'm planning to confess to him _tonight._"

"Bhfh!?"

"It would be a real shame if someone got to him before me, though..." Saten gave a mock grimace. "Well, the early bird gets the worm. Thank you for obliging me on this matter, Misaka-san." Saten bowed her head.

"..._Hai._"

* * *

Just...

"...What is going on?" Mikoto mumbled in a cloudy haze.

The sun was nearing the end of its descent.

Was Saten... joking?

But... she actually sounded rather serious. She didn't seem serious in the sense that she liked him in that matter, _but she seemed serious when she said she'll confess to him tonight._

The amount of times she interacted with that girl was enough for her to understand this much: Saten-san was rather impulsive... almost as impulsive as her.

What frightened her the most at that moment was that... the thought, the image of Saten being together with him... _didn't appear all that incongruous to her._

Her feet, in midst of all this inner storm of emotions in her mind, inevitably led her to _that_ location... That Certain Vending Machine.

And also approaching that Vending Machine was...

_Of course..._

Run away, that was what her body yelled. Run away, and reconnaissance. Now. This instant.

But her feet dragged onward. Because deep down, she knew... she knew that Saten-san was more than capable on going through with that act of confession.

Because, while she was probably, most likely, being playful, she was only partly being playful. She knew very well as to what that idiot was capable of when it came to women in general.

And so, she marched on toward that Vending Machine... and, to him.

What she didn't know was that, the expression on her face at that moment was _positively freaking him out._

* * *

Run away, that was what his body yelled. Run away, and reconnaissance. Now. This instant.

Her face, with her unflinching gaze burdened with a seemingly unimaginable amount of stress, _terrified_ him.

With every step she took, electric sparks danced around the pavement.

Her hair danced in the air with static charge.

What on earth did she want with him now!? A rematch!?

No, no, no... stay calm. Turning around and hightailing it out of there would simply activate her hunting extinct, and then she'd be chasing him for hours at that point. No, fleeing was no longer an option since she already landed her eyes on him.

All he could do now was to hold his ground.. and to ready his right hand...

He could positively _hear_ his own heartbeat as she walked up to him, closer and closer. And closer.

And closer.

...Until she was right in front of him.

...Their nose, almost touching-!?

"-Bhgh!" Touma jumped backwards–

"–STAY **STILL!**" Mikoto roared... from sheer mental stress. Bolts of lightning arced around him, forcing him to a stop. "Huff, puff..."

Something was... off.

He expected more hostility, but he only felt...  
...a metric ton of embarrassment!? Why was her face becoming red as a brick!?

"...Hey, you alright–?"

"–Shut it," Mikoto whimpered, "Just, listen to me..."

"...?"

Mikoto swallowed.

...

After readying herself... she spoke...:

"I..."

She paused. Then she tried again:

"I..."

...

Perhaps... she bit off more than she could chew.  
Perhaps... it was a better idea to cop-out here and to try this again at a later date...

"I..."

Then, Mikoto saw it.

Him with Saten, him with that silver-haired nun, him with... well, anyone else, (K-Kuroko!?), with her just watching on the sidelines, forever being too much of a coward to express her feelings for him.

**_No._ **

Mikoto grit her teeth.

...

**"I like you,"** Mikoto declared, her stomach doing somersaults, her bangs threatening to explode in static sparks.

"I like you," Mikoto said it again... and once she said it, she found it progressively easier and easier to say it:

"I like you." Mikoto said it once more, and swallowed. "Please go out with me."


	2. Reaction

Panic.

That was one primary emotion that appeared to overwhelm his senses at that moment.

He really did feel a mild onset of a panic attack wave over his system.

Just... what was he supposed to say to that? This entire situation felt very much... _unreal_ to him.

But no, this was quite real. That Misaka Mikoto standing in front of him was very much real, with her face glowing redder and redder by the second as she continued her (albeit miserably failing) attempts at keeping her composure and not letting herself overload from.. sheer stress and embarrassment.

And he had to give her _some_ sort of answer _now._

But how?

He could... pretend to not have heard her well.

But then she'd get mad.

He could... pretend to not understand what she really meant. '_Of course; I like you too!'_ Something like that...

But then she'd get mad.

He could just... laugh it off.

But then, he had a feeling she'd get really mad, then.

He could... turn around and run away.

But then he'd have to break out of the city itself to avoid her. And judging by the fact that she followed him all the way to Russia... he had a feeling she'd chase him to the end of the earth.

So– what should he do?

Honesty was always best policy, sure. But how could he be honest about something he didn't know!?

Wait...

Maybe..

_He could be honest about his cluelessness._

...Hmm.

...

...

...

"...I see," Touma finally responded.

"..."

Evidently, she was expecting something more than that, so... he went on:

"To be really honest with you, I have..."

...

_Why me, of all other people?_ Touma silently wondered. _Does she... actually like me? Someone like her? But..._

He truly didn't understand why. He saw nothing special in himself. Well, that sounded like false-modesty, now that he thought about that statement, but regardless.. out of all other people, why him? Was she _sure?_ Did she _really_ like someone like him? Did she really want to be with someone like him?

To be completely honest, he doubted it. This was something he really didn't expect. A sense of self-doubt washed over him.

But, if he demurred here, she would be greatly disappointed, and he would most likely regret it hereafter. In any case, they definitely would not be able to go back to their old familiar terms. She took a lot of risk here.

_So,_

_Instead of finishing his sentence, he stepped forward and grabbed her hand._

_"Mm!?" She flinched._

_"To be honest, Misaka," Touma smiled, "I don't know what to say to that. A lot of things here, I am unsure about... but, one thing I am sure: I like you too. I don't know how romance works or all that, but... if you want to start something, or whatever..." he was rambling; he needed to finish this quick. "I'll be with you along the way. We'll be together."_

_"..." A small hole formed at Mikoto's mouth–_

Yeah, no. Touma immediately dismissed that scenario. That sounded like something out of an SoL Anime. So...

"Are you sure?" He finally asked.

"–?"

"Do you, _actually_ like me?" Touma asked, raising one of his eyebrows. "I just... didn't expect this, that's all."

"..."

Then, Touma was hit with a powerful punch on his left shoulder.

"!?"

Then another punch. Then another punch. All the while, her face was red as a brick, all shades of Crimson Vermilion.

"Ow! Ow! Alright!" Touma grabbed her arm before she could launch another swing. "I get it!" He took a breath. "I...

"...

"...like you too." Touma averted his gaze, his face turning pink.

"..."

"...Oh." Mikoto fell silent.

So did Touma.

And for some time, they both stood there.

Unable to look into each other's face.

* * *

_So..._

_I finally did it._

_I **confessed.**_

Everything in Mikoto's sight seemed so much more real... or perhaps she should say, different? Well, whatever it was, everything certainly did not feel the same, now that she actually achieved this mountainous task.

So...

Now what?

Where were they now? What was their actual position here?

She supposed that they were a couple now. But then again... there was this issue of her dorm, her school, and policies that came along with them, and there was also Kuroko...

Well, she thought, as she rolled over in her bed. Such issues were for tomorrow. As for tonight... it was sweet dreams for her.

* * *

To this unfortunate Kamijou-san, today's events have been...

Wow. Just wow. Him, confessed to? What an amazing day, he thought, as he tossed over in his bathtub.

But now, it felt as if... his own entire identity was at a crisis, of sorts.

You see, his shenanigans with rest of the Delta Force, the reputation he had with his classroom, with his entire school... it all, to be frank, revolved very much around him and his friends being these... odd weirdos who wouldn't even _dream_ of approaching a girl. Oh sure, he always found himself in these rather troublesome, and... how should he put it, 'very improper' situations around women in general, and as such was often the butt of many jokes by his friends in regards to such situations, but they were just that: one-time only situations.

This, this... momentous event that occurred today, this was something _entirely_ different; _entirely_ off the chain, if you will. This was massive. He couldn't even tell it to _anyone._ The entire school would be after his blood, like those infamous FFF he read about in that certain manga. (Poor Yoshi, Touma remarked).

Those casual days, when he would find himself bickering with BiriBiri in that warm, relaxing afternoon air... perhaps, those days were not possible now.

_But, why not?_ He thought, as he yet again rolled over in his bathtub. _I **liked** those days. I liked spending those times with her like that._

With her like that...

With her like...

With... her.

Hmm.

He never really thought of BiriBiri... no, Misaka, as a 'her' before... well well.

This was getting way too introspective now. This Kamijou-san needed some good sleep tonight. He'll think over such troublesome details tomorrow.


End file.
